


Pretty in Pink or The Mission That Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

by alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Humor, Lime, M/M, Mission Fic, Shounen-ai, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 06:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist/pseuds/alittlepieceofgundamwing_archivist
Summary: by Lady M--Pink.Bright, dripping, cotton-candy, so-sugary-sweet-it-hurt-to- look-at-it... pink.Heero's hair was pink. His face was pink.He didn't look at them as he headed for the hallway, but he spoke -- each single, emphasized word a snarled death threat."NOT."*squelch squelch*"ONE."*squelch squelch*"WORD."





	Pretty in Pink or The Mission That Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dacia, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [A Little Piece of Gundam Wing](https://fanlore.org/wiki/A_Little_Piece_Of_Gundam_Wing), which closed in 2017. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after July 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [a little piece of gundam wing collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/alittlepieceofgundamwing/profile).  
> \--------  
> Warning: This fic was inspired by Benadryl (mmm, fuzzy thoughts).

Duo, sprawled comfortably on his bed reading a dog-eared manga, looked up as Heero suddenly snapped his laptop closed, stood abruptly, and walked stiffly to the other side of the room. Duo sighed, knowing all too well what that meant.  
  
"Mission?" he asked glumly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
"Hn," Heero responded, dragging his duffle bag out from under his bed and rummaging through it before pulling out a sleek-looking Magnum that he quickly checked for ammunition. Duo cursed silently. Of course a mission would have to come along now, of all times. He'd been hoping to get a little "quality time" in with his taciturn companion that evening. Maybe chisel away some of that cold-eyed mask of his, and see more of what lay underneath.  
  
It had only been within the past week or so that Duo had made the astonishing but delightful discovery that a little flirting, of all things, could get under the Perfect Soldier's skin; that it could even get the stoic young man -- dare he even think it? -- flustered. There was no other way to put it. A little casual touch here, a little not-so-subtle innuendo there... and Heero was squirming. Threatening to kill him, too - - there was that little drawback, of course. But Duo was used to the usual constant threat of his own imminent demise. He could deal with it. Especially if it meant watching some real, not- altogether-hostile emotion flicker across that stony expression every once in a rare while.  
  
Duo only hoped it all meant what he thought it meant. Of course, Duo had been nearly falling-down drunk the first time he'd dared attempt something so bold as coming on to Mr. Omae-o-Korosu. Were he in complete control of his faculties, he would have never, in a million _years_ , stuck his tongue in Heero's ear like that. He was crazy, after all, _not_ suicidal.   
  
Well... not very.  
  
Lucky for him, though, Heero _hadn't_ shoved him away, punched him in the face, or even put a bullet between his eyes for his drunken, amorous advances. Instead, Heero had merely jerked in surprise, his hands freezing in mid-motion over the keys of his laptop.  
  
"Duo?" he had said calmly.  
  
"Nn-hnnn?" Heero's ear. Yummy. Nibble nibble.  
  
"What..." And Heero's voice was suddenly hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Nnn. Sucking on your... nnnn... earlobe, man. Can't... nnnnn... you tell?"  
  
"... Why?"  
  
"Because you're...." Duo's tongue flickered teasingly along the inner ridges, and Heero stifled a gasp. "... so damn cute."  
  
"Idiot," Heero managed. "You're drunk."  
  
"That I am."  
  
"... You... wouldn't do this if you were sober, would you."  
  
Duo had blinked stupidly. That was an odd question... though, the way Heero had said it, it was more of a statement. His brow furrowed as he thought about it intently.  
  
"Hell no," he decided, right before attacking the outer edge of Heero's perfect ear with little love nips. His braid, which was already drooping precariously over his shoulder as he leaned over, chose that moment to slither forward into Heero's lap. Was it his imagination, or did Heero just moan slightly? "You'd... nnn... blow my head off."  
  
Heero hadn't responded to that. The Perfect Soldier just sat in unmoving silence for a long moment (though, in his drunken bliss, Duo couldn't tell if the long moment was a few seconds or an hour as he continued his pleasurable assault on Heero's ear). The moment was broken when Heero abruptly got to his feet, the movement throwing Duo off balance so that he fell back and sat down hard on his rump on the wooden floor.  
  
Duo had laughed then, a sound suspiciously close to a giggle, as he looked up at Heero with bleary eyes. Man, he was drunk. His vision wavered as he tried to count how many Heeros were standing before him. At least three. He lifted one hand towards the Heero in triplicate. "Ne, Heero, will one of you help me up?"  
  
The Heeros had glared at him. "Baka," they snapped, before turning and stomping off into the bathroom. A few moments later, Duo could hear the hiss of the shower running, and he blinked. Weird. He could have sworn Heero had already taken a shower earlier that evening.  
  
Duo shrugged, then curled up on the floor and immediately fell asleep.  
  
The next morning, when he woke up with a killer hangover and replayed the events of the previous evening over in his mind, he groaned into his hands, knowing that the next time he saw Heero, he was as good as dead. That is, until he realized that he was no longer sleeping on the hardwood floor, but rather, tucked neatly into his own bed.  
  
He grinned, feeling no small amount of amazement. A quick inspection under the covers revealed that he was still in his clothes from the previous evening. Damn. Oh well, did he really expect Heero to put him into his pyjamas? He should be counting his blessings. If Heero had gone through the trouble of putting him to bed, that might mean that there was a pretty good chance that he wasn't going to kill him. This time, at least.  
  
But Duo Maxwell was called Shinigami for a reason. He just couldn't resist flirting with death... in more ways than one. Duo had never mentioned that evening again, and neither had Heero. But now, several days later, Duo was intrigued, hope and suspicion warring within him over what might be going on inside the other boy's head. So he had begun his little flirting test, trying to see just how far he could push Heero before the boy finally snapped and either blew his brains out, or... blew him in an entirely different manner altogether. Of course, Duo thought, squirming a bit where he sat, the latter was preferable...  
  
And tonight, he had been planning a full-scale after-dinner flirting assault against his unsuspecting comrade-in-arms. But with Heero's new orders, that pretty much threw his scheme out the window. Still, maybe it wouldn't be a _total_ loss...  
  
"So what's this new mission?" Duo asked, all innocence, wide eyes and cheeky grin as he watched Heero methodically slide bullets into the Magnum clip. "Where are you going? Can I come?"  
  
"No, you can't," Heero replied without looking at him. "It's reconnaissance. You'd just be in my way."  
  
Duo clutched his chest as if mortally wounded. "In your _way_?" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Man, how can you say that? You know reconnaissance is my specialty! In and out, in and out..." Duo illustrated with an emphatic, pumping sweep of his hand, and stifled a chuckle. Heero still wasn't looking at him, but the tips of his ears were turning pink. Damn, this was fun. "I could get us in and out of there so fast and silent, they would never even know what hit them." _And neither would you._  
  
Duo wondered if he'd said that last part out loud, because Heero shot him a death glare that almost killed him on the spot. He swallowed hard, and grinned. "So... whaddya say?" he continued bravely. "You can't deny, we make a great team."  
  
"No."  
  
"Aw, come on."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Heero sighed with barely-suppressed aggravation. "Because it's a one-man job. I'm just going to check on some reports that an auto manufacturer is actually a cover for a Mobile Suit factory."  
  
"Oh." Duo squelched his disappointment. Heero was right, that was a one-man job, and a boring one at that, even though it was necessary. They couldn't exactly blow up the place if it was actually nothing more than the local industry. Still... "And if it _is_ a Mobile Suit factory?"  
  
The barest hint of a smile quirked at the edges of Heero's lips, and the briefest gleam of battle lust glinted in his cold blue eyes. "Then tomorrow night... you and I will take it out."  
  
Duo grinned and jumped to his feet. "All right!" he cheered. "Here's hoping!" Nothing like making things go boom to get the ol' libido flowing, after all...  
  
"Hn," Heero responded, sliding the cartridge into the Magnum with a solid click.  
  
~~  
  
Heero Yuy slipped stealthily through the midnight shadows of the forested hillside that overlooked the sprawling grounds of the King Motor Company Western Division, and did not think about Duo Maxwell.  
  
Ever the Perfect Soldier, he crept to the edge of the rocky overhang, almost at a belly-crawl, reached back to retrieve a small, sleek pair of night vision goggles from the partially open satchel that was slung over his shoulder, and did NOT think about Duo Maxwell. He peered through the goggles, his brows furrowing intently in concentration, his eyes adjusting quickly from the near-absolute darkness of the moonless night to the shimmering, two-toned world of neon green and black. Through the goggles, he could now clearly make out every sharp-edged detail of the three large buildings that made up the auto manufacturing plant, and the tall cement-and-steel fence, topped with a generous amount of barbed wire, that surrounded the grounds. And he absolutely did not think about Duo Maxwell.  
  
No. He definitely did not think of Duo. Duo's... tongue... in his ear. Duo's tongue, sensuously tracing along each inner ridge with infinitely soft moistness... and the feel of the braided pilot's warm breath against his skin, so close, it seemed to seep right through him and into his brain, filling it with an unfamiliar, pleasant fog, even as his body throbbed with little ripples of pleasure...  
  
Heero blinked at the sudden tightening sensation rising in his groin. A fierce scowl settled across his features, and he took a measured, deep breath to reign in his quickening pulse. He shook his head once, sharply, supremely annoyed with himself. No. He was NOT going to think about that... that... whatever the hell it had been, dammit! Especially not now.  
  
Maybe later...  
  
But not now! He had to focus on the mission. King Motor Company. Possible Mobile Suit factory. Right.  
  
Forcefully banishing the... unsettling memories of Duo from his mind, Heero shifted his position, inching up a little further on the outcrop, ignoring how the stony ground beneath him dug into the bare flesh of his arms and lower legs. Leaning forward, peering through the goggles, he counted the security guards. Two at the front gate. From this angle, he could also see four to each building, and there were probably more out of sight. A surprising amount of security for a mere auto manufacturer. On top of that, the guards didn't carry themselves properly. No ordinary, run-of-the-mill security guards, these, Heero noted, unless King Motor Company either had a killer security training program, or had taken to hiring ex-soldiers.   
  
Still, well-trained, over-cautious security guards did not an undercover Mobile Suit operation make. He was going to have to get closer, infiltrate the facility. Find out where the Mobile Suits were hidden, if any existed at all.  
  
If Duo were with him, he knew the clever Deathscythe pilot would already be planning the sneak attack, with great, overly-vocal enthusiasm. Heero mused silently that it was a good thing he had chosen to leave the exuberant boy behind. While Duo was most definitely an asset in covert operations such as this mission, Heero knew he was perfectly capable of handling it himself. Besides, he didn't want to have to worry about watching Duo's back, keeping him out of trouble...  
  
(Though, deep inside, in a part of his soul that had yet to see the light of day, he knew Duo could take care of himself, and that there was a new, different reason for his concern; for wanting to keep the other pilot out of harm's way...)  
  
Yes, it was good that he had left Duo behind. Besides, he needed to be absolutely focused. There was no room for error in this, or any mission, and Duo's presence would have been a... distraction...  
  
Heero could almost picture him now, laying next to him on his stomach, propped up on his elbows as he looked out over the factory, his violet eyes glittering in the darkness as he grinned that utterly disarming, maniacal grin... The long, impractical chestnut braid trailing down his lean, sinuous back...  
  
Heero blinked again.   
  
Sinuous?  
  
Utterly disarming...?  
  
With a sound that was almost a groan, the Perfect Soldier rubbed one hand over his face. "Duo," he muttered. "What the hell have you done to me?"  
  
~~  
  
"Ahhh-CHOO!"  
  
"Gesundheit," said Wufei, without looking up from his book.  
  
Duo sniffed as he flopped on an overstuffed chair on the other side of the small living room. "Gah," he gasped, wrinkling his nose. "Looks like someone's talking about me. Either that, or I'm coming down with a cold. Damn, I hope not."  
  
"More likely, it's just all the dust in this old place."   
  
Wufei flipped a page and kept his eyes fixed on the kanji, determined not to be drawn into yet another conversation with the American pilot. He really did want to finish his book.  
  
"Huh, you can say that again," Duo said with a grin. For emphasis, he picked up a threadbare throw-pillow that was gray with age, and whacked it against the sagging bookshelf behind him, sending up a large poof of dust. "Wow, would you look at all that?" he exclaimed, watching the cloud of motes drift in the lamplight. "Man, this place probably hasn't seen a feather duster in a couple of decades or so."  
  
Wufei stifled a sigh, then glared at him over the top of his book. "Kindly do not stir up the dust further, Maxwell."  
  
"Whoops, sorry." In spite of his words, Duo's mischievous smile was not in the least bit apologetic. "Well, hey," he said, shrugging, "I guess I shouldn't complain. Sure, it would take Quatre's entire cleaning staff a week to clean this place, but at least the water heaters in this safe house aren't broken, unlike the last place we crashed."  
  
Duo took a breath to elaborate further, but, to Wufei's immense relief, he was spared more of Duo's effervescent verbosity as Quatre entered the room, wiping his floury hands on his baker's apron. "Dinner's ready," the blond Arabian announced.  
  
Duo immediately leapt to his feet. "All right! I'm starved."  
  
As Wufei marked his place in the book, he breathed a small sigh of relief. If there was one thing guaranteed to keep Duo quiet for at least a short while, it was food.  
  
"Smells good, Quatre," said Trowa, who had just come down the stairs.   
  
Quatre beamed at his lover, who returned the smile almost shyly from beneath his long, tapering bangs. Duo looked back and forth between the two, a little too obviously, then chuckled knowingly.  
  
Quatre blushed under Duo's scrutiny, and sighed. The Deathscythe pilot might be silent as death on the battlefield, but under other circumstances -- especially in person -- he was about as subtle as a ton of bricks.   
  
Why, just the last week alone, Quatre had been surprised to see that Duo had finally progressed beyond his pining-from-a- distance stage of longing for Heero, and was now out-right, actively pursuing the boy. Duo was so amazingly un-subtle about it, it seemed that everyone had noticed what was going on. Everyone except Heero, of course. So maybe it was a good thing Duo came on like a ton of bricks, he realized. Anything less might not get through to the stone-faced Wing Pilot.   
  
In the meantime, Duo was continuing to leer at him and Trowa, so Quatre glanced around quickly for a distraction. He immediately found the perfect thing -- their quintet was minus one member. "Where's Heero?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Oh, uh..." Duo stopped smirking, and put his hand behind his head in embarrassment. "I forgot to tell you. He left on a mission earlier. It shouldn't take too long, though, so we should try to leave him some leftovers, neh?"  
  
"So speaks the human vacuum," said Wufei with a snort.  
  
Duo managed to look mildly offended. "Oi! I've got a high metabolism."  
  
Wufei eyed Duo's lean form with a single raised brow. "Obviously. All that food you consume has to go somewhere. Yuy will be lucky if there's a single biscuit left when he gets back."  
  
"Oi!"  
  
"So what was the mission?" Quatre asked, anxious to interrupt Duo and Wufei's verbal sparring before it got out of hand.  
  
Duo shrugged. "Nothing major, he just went to check out some car factory to make sure it's not really an undercover Mobile Suit operation. If it is, we'll be taking it out tomorrow night."  
  
"Which car factory is that?" Trowa asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
  
"I think he said it was the King Motor Company. They're some luxury car manufacturer," Duo replied, and blinked as he saw Trowa's surprised expression. "Why?"  
  
"King Motor Company," Trowa said thoughtfully. "Aren't they the ones who make those... interesting pink limousines that Miss Peacecraft owns?"  
  
Duo's jaw sagged. A moment later, his lopsided grin was back in place, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Holy cow, Trowa, I think you're right. Damn!" he exclaimed, his tone a strange mixture of delight and frustration. "I knew I should have gone with him! What I wouldn't give to see the look on Heero's face when he gets an eyeful of a whole fleet of Relena's cars! Man, I can't believe I'm missing out on that."  
  
"Don't be so sure," Trowa said mildly. "It's highly unlikely that the company only makes... pink limos. And even less likely that they keep a fleet of them at the factory."  
  
"Oh." That dampened Duo's enthusiasm somewhat. "You're probably right about that. Oh well, I guess I'll find out when he gets back. In the meantime..." Duo walked through the kitchen door between Quatre and Trowa, snagging each of them with his arms and dragging them through. "I'm starving. Let's eat already!"  
  
Wufei followed close behind shaking his head, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  
  
~~  
  
Heero crept silently across the rooftop of the main factory building, glad to be beyond the reach of the flock of security guards swarming the grounds below. It had been trickier than he thought it would be, sneaking past them without detection. Were it a different type of mission, he could have gotten away with creating a disturbance with a well-placed explosive or two, and he also wouldn't have had to think twice about killing any soldiers who got in his way.  
  
Then again, if it were that type of mission, he might have brought Duo along after all. And since just the thought of Duo was making him feel confused, muddle-headed and tight-chested again, it was just as well that it was merely a one-man reconnaissance job.  
  
Besides, the security guards might be civilians, not soldiers. And the factory might not be a Mobile Suit factory. And even if it was -- especially if it was -- he couldn't afford to give away his presence, and thus put them on the alert for tomorrow's attack.  
  
And he was suspecting, more and more, that there _would_ be an attack. Duo would be happy about that, if his instincts were correct. The factory grounds had been so well guarded, he had to abandon any plan to enter the buildings through the ground level doors. Which was why he was currently on the roof, and creeping toward the skylight with a glass cutter in his palm.  
  
As Heero reached the skylight and looked down into the surprisingly well-lit factory, he froze.  
  
Stretched out beneath him was a virtual sea of all-too- familiar cotton-candy pink automobiles.  
  
The corner of Heero's left eye twitched slightly.  
  
The sight of so much... pink... drove all thought out of Heero's stunned mind. Except for one particularly intense thought.  
  
Mobile Suit factory or not, this place definitely had to go.  
  
"Freeze, punk."  
  
Heero, already frozen by the mind-numbing sight of a fleet of Relena's cotton-candy-pink limos, obediently continued not to move. But not because the man behind him said so, or even because the man was holding a gun, its cold barrel suddenly pressing mercilessly into the back of his skull.   
  
He froze because he couldn't comprehend how he could have let years of training and conditioning slip away, and allow himself to become distracted enough that someone could sneak up on him unawares.  
  
It might have been just the limos, he mused grimly. Pink.   
  
Ugh. It should be illegal for cars to be that color. Or anything else, for that matter.  
  
But more than the sight of pink limousines, he greatly suspected his unforgivable lapse in caution and awareness was the direct result of... Duo Maxwell.  
  
Even now, with a gun pointed at the back of his head, he couldn't seem to purge the recollection of the American's drunken advances from his brain. In fact, the memories seemed to clarify and sharpen in his mind. The teasing, flickering tongue in his ear; the feel of the silken mass of the boy's braid laying heavily in his lap...   
  
For days, the memory had lurked constantly within his thoughts, filling him with a strange ache he couldn't even begin to define. But now, with death just a twitch of a finger away, his mind racing even as time seemed to shudder to a stop, he could almost name the emotion the experience had evoked in him, without denial.  
  
Desire.  
  
He had wanted, so badly, to reach down and untwist that long, thick hair, plunge his fingers into the soft strands... He had wanted to turn his face just so, and capture that hot, moist, wandering tongue with his mouth...  
  
He couldn't, of course. Because... because he was the Perfect Soldier, and Perfect Soldiers don't indulge their whimsical, licentious fantasies about their fellow pilots, and take advantage of them when they are drunk out of their mind. But, the thought suddenly occurred to him, Perfect Soldiers _also_ couldn't be taken by surprise by a single gun-toting guard on the roof of an automobile manufacturing company that might be a cover for a Mobile Suit operation...  
  
So maybe he _wasn't_ the perfect soldier. Maybe Dr. J's training was incomplete. The good doctor certainly had never taught him how to deal with the possibility of suddenly wanting to play tongue tag with a certain violet-eyed terrorist...  
  
"Put your hands up where I can see them," the man behind him grated. The barrel of the gun dug painfully into Heero's scalp. "No funny business, or your brains are going to be decorating the skylight."  
  
Yes, thought Heero, as he slowly lifted his hands into the air, keeping his glass cutter carefully hidden in the crease of his palm. This man behind him was no average security guard. His trigger-happy attitude practically screamed "OZ soldier." Heero realized, rather calmly, that unless he thought of something fast, he was probably going to die in the next few moments. He only hoped the man would let him at least turn around, because he didn't want a bunch of Relena's pink cars to be the last thing he saw. Aside from that, all he could seem to think about was that he would never get the chance to tell Duo how he felt about him.  
  
But maybe that was a good thing. He could see it now. Walking straight up to the Deathscythe pilot and saying, "Duo... You confuse the hell out of me." And then maybe punching him in the jaw. Or kissing him senseless.   
  
Yeah, he could see it going either way...  
  
Also, he didn't even know how Duo really felt about him. Duo _had_ been drunk, after all, and people say and do things they don't mean when they are drunk. Hell, Duo had even come right out and admitted he would never have come on to him if he were sober...   
  
Duo had been _so_ drunk, he probably didn't even remember the incident at all. Or maybe he _did_ remember, but was too embarrassed over his actions to mention it. Heero had hoped (rather guiltily) that it was the former, because if Duo remembered and was embarrassed, the chance that there might be a repeat performance was practically nil. But Duo _had_ been steering clear of the alcohol the past few days...  
  
What was even worse, Heero realized, was that ever since the incident, he had been finding subtle... innuendo... in almost everything Duo said and did. And Duo, who was only being his usual talkative, energetic self, probably had no idea that under Heero's cold-eyed mask, a spark had been lit...and that spark was slowly smouldering, building in strength and igniting fires where no warmth had existed before, thawing his frozen heart like the mid-summer sun on a glacier. No, Duo probably had no clue that he was driving his fellow pilot practically insane with desire with nearly every word, every gesture, every smile...  
  
Heero Yuy, who had never before experienced anything like the trembling, desperate, visceral need that the braided American pilot evoked in him, couldn't even begin to comprehend what to do about it.  
  
And he wouldn't get the chance to figure it out -- especially if he got himself killed in the next few seconds. Which was almost certain to happen if he didn't get his act together and gather his scattered wits so that he could think of a way out of this mess...  
  
"Drop the bag," the man said in a tone that clearly communicated he meant business.  
  
Reluctantly, Heero lowered one arm and let his small duffle bag slip from his shoulder. He wasn't too worried about losing the contents, since the bag didn't contain anything that couldn't be easily replaced. But his .357 Magnum was in there (another unforgivable mistake), and the chances he could get to it before the soldier decorated the roof with his gray matter were practically nil.   
  
"Turn around," the man grated. "Slowly. One false move, and you're dead."  
  
Heero turned around - - glad, at least, to have the pink limos out of his direct line of sight. He found himself staring, instead, down the barrel of a gun held by a huge, burly, lantern- jawed man, who was wearing a security guard uniform that looked a few sizes too small for him. Looking up at the towering, overly- muscled man, Heero briefly wondered if they even _made_ uniforms his size.  
  
The big man blinked at Heero in surprise, and took a step back. "What the-- you're just a kid! What the hell are you doing up here?!"  
  
Out of all the reactions Heero expected, that was not one of them. Why did it matter if he was a kid, if he was caught in the act of spying on an OZ facility?  
  
But the man's sudden uncertainty was clear. He lowered the gun slightly, even as a scowl furrowed his brow. "Answer me, boy. What are you doing on the roof of Vice-Minister Peacecraft's car factory? This better not be some kind of prank, or you're in deep shit. Hell, you're in deep shit anyway, so explain yourself."  
  
Heero blinked. A prank? This guy thought he was here to play a prank?  
  
Not exactly the reaction of an OZ soldier, protecting a secret mobile suit factory. Had his instincts been wrong? Was this place truly nothing more than Relena's pink limo manufacturer?  
  
It couldn't be. Not with all this overblown security. It had to be an OZ outfit. Maybe the soldier was just really dumb. And in this deadly situation, he was suddenly reminded of a movie that Duo had made him watch a month or two back. It was some ancient, pre-colony film that Duo loved, called "Die Hard." "When the guy is sitting in the bathroom pulling glass out of his feet," Duo had said afterwards, "and he's talking over the radio to the cop about his wife and kids, thinking he's gonna die soon... man, that just _kills_ me."  
  
Heero thought the movie was okay. He had mostly enjoyed watching Duo, and his animated reactions to the movie, discreetly out of the corner of his eye. But there was a particular scene that he remembered -- where the hero caught the terrorist flatfooted. Hans Gruber, faced with a gun to the head, had gone in an instant from cold and collected, to terrified and tearful; slipping from his clipped German accent to the vocal patterns of a slightly drunk American, and acting as though he was merely a hostage who had escaped the main group...  
  
The corner of Heero's left eye twitched. It would be difficult -- he'd never done anything like it before. He had absolutely no experience with this kind of thing. But it was so stupid, it just might work.  
  
If he could pull it off, that is...  
  
Staring at the guard, he forced his eyes to go wide and scared. At least, he hoped that was what he was doing. He was a Gundam pilot, not an actor. Still, this was a mission he had accepted, and he had to follow through, no matter how... demeaning it might be.  
  
"D-don't shoot," he stuttered. "I... I was just looking."   
  
Hm... he didn't sound nearly panicked and fearful enough. He tried to put more emotion in his voice. "I wasn't going to do anything, I swear!" Yeah, that was better, he thought, even as he winced inwardly.  
  
The guard lowered the gun further. "Just wanted a peek at Miss Peacecraft's pink limos, eh?" He wrinkled his face in disgust. "What are you, some kind of stalker freak?"

The irony was devastating. Him, stalking Relena? Heero restrained the immediate impulse to take advantage of the man's lowered defenses, and just reach out and snap his neck. There _was_ still the faint possibility that he was only a civilian, after all.  
  
"No!" he denied, a bit too vehemently. "I was just looking!" _Oh yeah. Real believable, Yuy._ He mentally smacked himself. _Can't you think of something better?_  
  
"Just looking, eh?" The guard glowered. "Then why are you holding a glass cutter?"  
  
Oops. Well, there really wasn't any way to hide it now.   
  
"I... I just..." _Just what? Think, Yuy! What's a plausible excuse? Where is that lightning-sharp intellect you're so proud of?_  
  
And then it hit him. An idea so insane and off the wall... Duo would be proud of it.  
  
"I just... wanted to take a picture," Heero said.  
  
The guard frowned. "And how, exactly, do you take a picture with a glass cutter?"  
  
"I... wanted to remove a glass pane so the flash wouldn't reflect. The camera is in my bag." Okay, so it was for taking surveillance photos, but the guard didn't need to know that. Still, it had given him an idea, and he was warming up to the story that he was concocting in his head.   
  
The guard glanced at the bag curiously, and Heero fought down a surge of real panic. If he searched the bag, he would have a hard time explaining away the Magnum and the night-vision goggles. "The picture is for my photography class," he said quickly. "I knew that this place manufactured pink limos, and I thought it would be a good photo opportunity." Heero struggled to express the irrational enthusiasm of an artist. He spread his hands awkwardly in a broadly sweeping gesture. "Hundreds of pink limousines, representing wealth and opulence, surrounded by the grime of a blue-collar factory... It's perfect, don't you think?" He forced a smile. "Very... um, post-modern." Or something like that. Art history had never been his favorite subject during those times he had to pose as a student.  
  
_Shit,_ he thought, listening to how lame he sounded. _This is a stupid idea. What in the hell was I thinking?_  
  
The guard seemed slightly less suspicious, however, but still didn't lower the gun. "Why didn't you just ask the plant owner and come during the day? Why did you have to sneak in just to take a picture?"  
  
Heero noticed, with muted relief, that the guard was no longer eyeing his bag. "Well, I would have..." He shrugged and tried his best to look sheepish. "But I forgot about the assignment until tonight, and it's due first thing tomorrow, so..." He trailed off meaningly, and hoped the ploy worked. After all, what was more realistic that a student caught in a procrastination panic, right?  
  
To his surprise, the guard lowered the gun completely. _Either the guard is incredibly stupid, or I'm a better actor than I thought._  
  
"Damn, kid." The guard shook his head. "You're an idiot, do you know that? You could have gotten killed, sneaking in here - and just to take a stupid picture? Vice-Minister Peacecraft has to have tight security, even for her cars, in case someone tries sabotage. I almost shot you, thinking you were some sort of terrorist. Is turning in some stupid assignment on time worth risking that?"  
  
Heero slumped his shoulders and looked at his shoes, hoping he looked abashed. "I... I didn't really think about it. I just wanted the picture."  
  
"Well, then," the guard said, "hurry up."  
  
Heero looked up with a surprise that was totally unfeigned. "What?"  
  
"Go on," the guard said impatiently. "Take your picture, and I'll escort you out of here. But you can't cut the glass. You'll have to be satisfied with taking your picture through the skylight."  
  
Heero blinked, stunned. "... Right."   
  
Well, that confirmed it right there. No OZ soldier would allow some kid to take a picture of the factory if it was secretly a mobile suit operation. Which meant that it was a good thing he hadn't followed through on his impulse to reach out and break the guard's neck.  
  
Duo was going to be disappointed to find that there would be no mission of OZ destruction tomorrow...   
  
Argh, _again_ his thoughts went back to Duo! No matter what he did, or what life-threatening situation he was in, he couldn't get the Deathscythe pilot out of his head!  
  
That clinched it. He was going to have to do something about this situation with Duo as soon as he got back to the safehouse. It was either that, or go crazy - though, considering what had just happened, it was probably too late to salvage his sanity anyway.  
  
Reaching into his bag, he carefully pulled out his surveillance camera since he apparently had to follow this charade through. As he turned back to the skylight, the guard stepped up next to him and looked down.   
  
"Yeah," the guard said. "I guess I can see why you'd want a photo. A sight like that _is_ kind of mind blowing." His lip curled in distaste. "Anyway, hurry up and take your picture already, I don't got all night."  
  
Heero nodded, even as he suppressed a shudder. Pink. Ugh. Oh well, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could leave this stupid, nightmarish mission behind, and get back home to Duo.  
  
He quickly took stock of the situation. The windows of the skylight were grimy and water stained. Without a glass cutter, he'd have to crawl out onto the skylight itself to get to a spot that was relatively clean enough through which to take a picture. Stifling a sigh, and looping his bag over his shoulder for safe- keeping away from the guard, he edged his way out onto the glass and iron framework  
  
He noticed, with some trepidation, that the iron was almost solid red with rust.   
  
_Is this building that old? Whatever happened to using stainless steel?_ he wondered, just as his precarious perch groaned ominously under his weight. He froze, suddenly doubting the wisdom of trying to find a semi-clear window, all for a picture of pink limos that he didn't really want...  
  
...when a disturbing crackling, snapping sound emerged from under his hands and knees...  
  
"Oh shit," Heero whispered.  
  
"Hey, be careful, kid," the guard called after him. "That doesn't look too sa-- "  
  
Heero didn't hear the rest as the skylight collapsed beneath him in a shower of glass and metal.  
  
~*~  
  
Duo Maxwell stomped into the kitchen and glared at the empty chairs surrounding the table. A moment later, he turned on his heel and stomped out, then turned an evil eye at the three boys lounging in the living room.  
  
Wufei glanced up from his book, saw the expression on Duo's face, and went back to reading. Across the room, Quatre, who was snuggled comfortably against Trowa's side, looked away from where the television was quietly broadcasting a recently restored version of "Casablanca," and frowned.  
  
"Duo..."  
  
Duo turned without a word, and stomped down the hall. Quatre sighed. He counted Duo's steps. Fifteen long strides to the end of the hall. Stop. Five second pause. Fifteen long strides, and Duo was back in the living room, glaring at all of them, his fists clenched at his sides.  
  
"Dammit, where _is_ he?!"  
  
Wufei stifled a groan, and slouched down further behind his book. He was concerned about Yuy's lateness as well -- they all were -- but until he had solid facts, he refused to work himself into an irrational panic over it.   
  
Now, if only Quatre and Trowa didn't object so strongly to him restraining and gagging Maxwell, he could have some peace in the meantime. Locking the Deathscythe pilot in a closet, however, apparently wasn't a very nice thing to do in Quatre's eyes, so Wufei had long since resigned himself to the fact that peace and quiet were not meant to be until Yuy returned from his reconnaissance mission. Sighing, he pushed his square-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, and buried himself further into Sun Tzu's  Art of War.  
  
"Duo," Quatre tried again, trying to soothe the agitated American. "I'm sure he's just fine."  
  
"The hell he is," Duo snapped. "We're talking about the Perfect Soldier here. That mission was cake, three hours tops, in and out, snap some pics, hack some files, and back to the homestead while dinner's still warm. It's been eight hours. It's almost 1 a.m. Even allowing that everything didn't go smoothly, that's still four hours too long."  
  
"Well," Quatre said, "Maybe he just..."  
  
"Just what? Went shopping? Took the scenic route?" Duo snorted. "This is Heero! The guy who doesn't take a piss unless he's worked it into his schedule first."  
  
Quatre blinked. Trowa raised an eyebrow.  
  
Duo scowled and ran his fingers through his bangs. "That's it," he said. "I'm gonna go look for him." Before anyone could protest, he grabbed his black leather jacket from where he'd draped it over the back of a worn, patched recliner, and opened the front door.  
  
And came face to face with a pair of murderously angry blue eyes.  
  
Startled, Duo yelped, and jumped back a step. Still, he would know those eyes anywhere, and he was about to shout Heero's name in relief... when he saw what was surrounding those furious blue eyes.  
  
Pink.  
  
Bright, dripping, cotton-candy, so-sugary-sweet-it-hurt-to- look-at-it... pink.  
  
Heero's hair was pink. His face was pink.   
  
Duo's saucer-wide eyes traveled quickly down the rest of Heero's body, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. Heero's arm and hand, still outstretched toward the now-open door, was pink. His tank top and spandex shorts were pink. Legs: pink. Tennis shoes and socks: also pink.  
  
The only thing that was _not_ pink, Duo realized, were Heero's narrowed blue eyes. Even his eyelashes were coated pink. It looked as though the Perfect Soldier had gone swimming in a vat of pink paint.  
  
Which, Duo realized as soon as the thought entered his dumbstruck mind, was probably exactly what happened. The mission had been to the factory that made Relena's pink limos... And now he stood, face to face with a completely _pink_ Heero. A pink Heero, who had fixed him with a Killer Glare that promised a slow and agonizing death if he even... _dared_... laugh...  
  
Duo couldn't help it. This was the funniest damn thing he had ever seen, and even though he knew Heero would kill him, he could feel the hysterical laughter bubbling up within him, feel the wicked grin spreading across his own face, helpless to stop it.  
  
Heero seemed to sense the imminent explosion of hilarity that was coming from Duo and, he raised one hand, pointing silently and threateningly at the braided boy. If possible, his glare became even more dangerous.  
  
Frantically, survival instinct kicking in, Duo clamped both hands over his mouth and nose and pressed as hard as he could against the guffaws filling his chest. Miraculously, the only noise that escaped him was a slight whistle through his nose, though his eyes were wide and tearing with silent laughter.  
  
"Duo?" Quatre couldn't see around the door at what Duo was staring at, but in the past few seconds, the Deathscythe pilot's behavior had been strange to the extreme. Opening the door, coming to a dead standstill, his mouth gaping open like a fish for a moment, before slamming both hands against his mouth and shaking. "What's going..."  
  
Duo stepped back quickly, hands still pressed to his mouth, tears starting to stream down his cheeks, his face red from holding in the laughter. Without a word, Heero stalked past him and into the living room.  
  
"...on..." Quatre finished weakly, his eyes bulging at the sight.  
  
Trowa stiffened, his one visible eye widening in shock Wufei looked up from his book. His jaw dropped, and his book slipped from his hands to thump loudly on the floor. Heero didn't even look at them as he marched through the room, each step making wet squelching sounds and leaving pink footprints on the hardwood floor. He didn't look at them as he headed for the hallway, but he spoke -- each single, emphasized word a snarled death threat.  
  
"NOT."  
  
*squelch squelch*  
  
"ONE."  
  
*squelch squelch*  
  
"WORD."  
  
*squelch squelch squelch*  
  
The four pilots watched him go in absolute silence. Heero walked down the hall, entered the bathroom, and slammed the door closed behind him.  
  
And Duo, as if on cue, collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, crying, and laughing his ass off.

~*~

Heero leaned against the bathroom door and slid to the floor with a groan, his head in his hands. He could hear them all in the front room laughing -- even Trowa! He had never heard Trowa laugh in his life, and yet he could hear the Heavyarms pilot chuckling softly. Quatre's laughter chimed in with his, and Wufei's partially stifled mirth wasn't much better. Duo, however, was by far the loudest. Laughing so hard, he was crying! And that thumping sound was probably the Deathscythe pilot pounding his fists and legs on the floor. But still, he thought at least Trowa would respect his dignity a little! Not that he had much dignity left...  
  
Falling through the skylight, he had experienced a split- second of panic that comes with a sudden shock, but his battle instincts kicked in and immediately calmed him. He had fallen from greater heights before, and had survived. It was all in how you took the fall. So he looked down to see where he was going to land so he could prepare...  
  
...and saw that he was falling into his worst nightmare.  
  
An open vat of Relena's pink limo paint.  
  
The security guards had helped him crawl out. They then escorted him to the gate. They didn't even bother to search him or question him -- they were laughing too hard.  
  
Getting home was almost as bad. He didn't dare drive his motorcycle back to the safehouse, since a solid pink teenager driving a motorcycle at eleven o'clock at night wasn't exactly the most inconspicuous sight in the world. So he walked, avoiding civilization where he could, and where he couldn't, sneaking as stealthily as a pink Gundam pilot could sneak. Oh, the humiliation...  
  
Well, he couldn't just sit here sulking about it all night. He had to get this stuff off of him.  
  
Standing up and squelching over to stand in front of the sink, he took a deep breath... and looked up into the medicine cabinet mirror.  
  
Oh gods... no wonder he could still hear them laughing out there.   
  
There were no words to describe how ridiculous he looked. He was thoroughly coated in the disgusting pink stuff. He looked like a human-shaped wad of chewed bubblegum. With a mop of stiff pink bristles stuck to his head. Shit. How the hell was he going to get all that paint out of his hair?  
  
Turning on the hot water faucet, he quickly reached under the cupboard and got out the heavy-duty soap -- the kind that he usually used to clean himself up when he was covered in grease and sweat after a long day of doing repairs on Wing. Dumping a generous amount into his palm, he scoured hard at his hands and arms. Several thorough and scrubbed-sore minutes later, he rinsed the pink-tinged suds off under the steaming water...  
  
...and blinked in horror.  
  
He was still pink. The soap had managed to get the sticky semi-dry layer of paint off, but in the two hours that it took him to walk home, the dye had apparently soaked into his skin. And outside, in the living room, Duo and the other pilots were still laughing their heads off.   
  
Well, that clinched it. He was never leaving the bathroom again.  
  
No... no, of course that was ridiculous. There was a war going on, and he couldn't cower in the bathroom just because he looked like he'd been attacked by Barbie-obsessed vandals. But then, he couldn't very well perform missions to peak efficiency in this... condition... either.  
  
There was only one other viable option.   
  
As much as it galled him... he needed help.   
  
He needed someone who could help him find or concoct some sort of substance or cleaner that could get the dye out of his skin. And once that was accomplished, find someone who could actually help him clean the dye from the parts of his body that he couldn't see or reach, like the small of his back, and other hard to reach... places...  
  
Heero froze.   
  
Looking up into the mirror at his oh-so-pink complexion, he saw a strange gleam lighting his eyes, and a small, wicked grin quirking at the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Ninmu ryoukai," he whispered.  
  
He turned to the bathroom door. "Duo!" he shouted. "Come here!"  
  
Outside, the laugher suddenly fell dead silent.  
  
~*~  
  
Duo, tears of hilarity still streaming down his face, looked up at the other pilots from where he lay on the floor. As one, their heads swivelled to look down the hall towards the bathroom door, from which Heero's sharp, demanding call had come. Duo's wide eyes were suddenly filled with a faint gleam of panic. "Oh shit," he said. "Heero's gonna kill me."

Wufei nodded, even as he lifted his glasses and wiped away the remains of his own tears of laughter. "Well," he said soberly, "it was nice knowing you, Maxwell."  
  
Duo glared. "Guys, did you even see the look on his face? I'm serious!"  
  
"So am I," Wufei replied, shrugging.  
  
"Don't be silly, Duo," Quatre said. "Heero is _not_ going to kill you just for laughing at him."  
  
"That's right," Trowa added. "If that were the case, he'd kill us too. There's no reason for him to single you out."  
  
"Except," Wufei interjected helpfully, "that Duo was laughing the loudest by far."  
  
Quatre looked at him thoughtfully, and nodded. "Hm, good point. Duo, if Heero kills you, can I have your CD collection?"

Duo groaned. "I'm about to go to my death, and you guys are making jokes!"  
  
"Who's joking?" Wufei asked, completely straight-faced and thoroughly enjoying himself. Rare was the opportunity that he could turn the tables on his gregarious friend. Between Heero's unexpected state of pink-ness, and Duo's unfounded worry over his own imminent demise, the otherwise dull evening had taken a most entertaining turn. "Look at it this way, Maxwell. At least you'll die laughing."  
  
This statement only served to once again conjure up the memory of Heero the Pink in Duo's mind, and though he fought valiantly, his scowl dissolved under an uncontrollable onslaught of snickers that threatened to develop into full blown belly laughs.  
  
This was no good, Duo realized. If he couldn't reign in his laughter, Heero would kill him for sure. And he really didn't want to die. At least not before he could convince Heero to make out with him first, and that could take ages at the glacial rate he was chipping away at that stone mask!  
  
With a new sense of determination, Duo used every ounce of will he had to swallow his laugher. When he felt he finally had control over himself, he pushed himself to his feet, squared his shoulders, faced the hallway... and immediately burst out laughing at the site of the pink tennis-shoe prints that led into the bathroom.  
  
"He's doomed," Wufei pronounced. Quatre and Trowa nodded in solemn agreement.  
  
"DUO!" Heero's furious voice bellowed from behind the bathroom door. "STOP LAUGHING AND GET YOUR ASS IN HERE NOW!"  
  
Duo blinked. He had never in his life heard Heero sound so mad. It convinced him more than ever that Heero planned to kill him, and almost made him stop laughing. Almost.  
  
"You know," Quatre suggested hesitantly, "you _could_ just run away. What are the chances that he would leave the bathroom to chase after you?"  
  
Wufei shook his head. "Maybe not now. But Maxwell can't hide from him forever."  
  
Duo managed to get his laughter under control enough to throw a glare at Wufei. "Are you sure _you_ don't want my CD collection? You seem awfully eager to see me dead."  
  
"You're the one still laughing, Maxwell. I'm only predicting the inevitable." Wufei leaned down casually to pick his fallen book from the floor and thumbed it open. "But don't worry, I'll write you up an appropriate obituary. 'Duo Maxwell - Suffered Death at Pink Hands.'"  
  
As expected, Duo almost collapsed to the floor laughing again. Wufei hid his smile behind his book.  
  
"Well," Duo gasped between guffaws, "might as well... get it over with! And you're right, I guess. There are... worse ways... to go!"  
  
With that, he straightened as best he could, and staggered down the hallway, ineffectually doing his best to stifle his laughter with his hands clamped over his mouth.  
  
Undeniably curious, Wufei, Quatre and Trowa watched, wondering exactly what sort of torturous punishment Heero had in mind for Duo.  
  
Duo raised one hand to knock at bathroom, but before he could touch it, the door flew open. A pink hand shot out of the open doorway, grabbed Duo by the front of his shirt, and dragged him inside, slamming the door behind him.  
  
The three pilots in the living room listened with no small surprise as a loud peal of Duo's laughter rang from inside the bathroom.  
  
"I'll teach you to laugh at me!" Heero said, and though his voice was low and threatening, it seemed to resonate through the small safe house.  
  
There was a loud thump.  
  
And then silence.  
  
Followed by more silence.  
  
And even _more_ silence.  
  
The three pilots in the living room glanced at each other in surprise.  
  
"Um...." Quatre cleared his throat nervously. "You don't think...."  
  
"That Yuy actually killed Maxwell?" Wufei snorted, but there was the tiniest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "Of course not."  
  
The moments of silence stretched into minutes. Trowa glanced at Quatre. "Maybe--"  
  
"We should check to make sure? Good idea!" Quatre said, jumping to his feet and pulling Trowa behind him.  
  
~*~   
  
Duo Maxwell was in heaven.  
  
And he didn't even have to die to get there.  
  
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that heaven would be so... pink... and slightly sticky... but hey, he wasn't about to complain. Not that he could anyway, what with Heero's tongue down his throat, especially when he was doing his best to return the favor.  
  
After a few minutes of passionate, tongue tangling bliss, the two boys surfaced for air. Duo was breathless, his eyes closed in rapture, his chest heaving. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Heero staring at him, with the most adorable look of smirking pleasure on his pink face. And Duo didn't feel the slightest urge to laugh.  
  
"Um..." he said, when he thought he could speak, but it came out a dazed whisper. "I take it that this means you're not going to kill me?"  
  
Heero leaned forward until his lips brushed Duo's ear. "Why should I," he murmured, "when I seem to have found a much better way of shutting you up?"  
  
Duo's eyes widened, and he pushed Heero back to look him in the face. For a moment, his piercing violet gaze searched Heero's expression, as if looking for any hidden meaning or deception in his friend's pink countenance... and then, finding none, the most wicked smile Heero had ever seen lit his face.  
  
"I see," Duo said, his voice soft and teasing. "Well, you might just have to use that method again, since I'm pretty sure I'm going to start laughing at you any moment now."  
  
Heero didn't need to be encouraged twice. But this time, instead of pouncing on Duo in the surprise attack that had caused them to fall on the floor in a tangle of limbs, he came at him slow and gentle.  
  
"You know," Duo said a few minutes later, grinning like a fool. "I think I could almost get used to this whole pink thing you've got going on."  
  
"Don't even joke about that," Heero said. He tried to snarl it, but it came out more as a groan. But then, his blue eyes lit, and his gaze raked across Duo. "In fact," he said slowly, "that reminds me of the reason I called you in here."  
  
Duo blinked. "The... reason?" He looked almost crestfallen. "You mean, this wasn't...."  
  
Heero quickly headed off Duo's train of thought. "I need your help to get all this paint off me."  
  
"Oh." From the disconsolate sound of Duo's voice, Heero could tell he didn't get it.  
  
"You don't understand, Duo. I need your help, because the paint is everywhere."  
  
"Well, I...." Duo blinked again, comprehension dawning in his eyes. He looked at Heero, stupefied. "Eh... everywhere?"  
  
Heero nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smirk. " _Everywhere_ ," he said throatily, and Duo swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing as his wide eyes threatened to take up his entire face.  
  
"You..." Duo's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Heero couldn't help a small chuckle. Turnabout was definitely fair play. "You sure?"  
  
"Well, unless you don't want to help."  
  
As Duo's surprise faded, that slow, wicked grin crawled across his face again. "Heero, you don't know how long I've wanted to show you just what a helpful guy I am."  
  
And before Heero could respond to that, Duo's mouth was covering his in a hot, sweet... and slightly sticky and pink... kiss.  
  
~*~   
  
Quatre frowned, his ear pressed to the bathroom door, and cast Trowa a worried look. "I can't hear a thing," he said. Throwing caution to the wind, keeping concern for his comrades first and foremost in mind, he straightened and pounded on the bathroom door. "Duo? Are you okay?"  
  
There was a small shuffling sound. Then, Heero's muffled, gruff voice came through the door. "Go away, Quatre."  
  
Quatre scowled. "Heero, I order you to open this door at once. If you've actually hurt Duo--" He broke off as the shuffling became more pronounced, and stepped back in alarm as footsteps approached the other side of the door. The door flung open, but instead of Heero's furious pink face, Quatre found himself facing Duo.  
  
Duo, who was looking rather rumpled, with his shirt half unbuttoned and half hanging out of his pants. Duo, who had suspicious splotches of drying pink paint all over his hands and face and chest. Duo, who was grinning like an idiot. And just beyond, sitting on the bathroom floor and glaring at him in annoyance, a very half naked, very pink Heero.  
  
Before Quatre could even register his shock, Duo said, "Look,see,I'mfine,nowgobackandfinishyourmovieorsomething, okay,bye!"  
  
The door slammed again.  
  
Quatre stared at the closed door and blinked several times. Trowa reached over and touched his shoulder. "Want to go and finish up Casablanca?"  
  
"Actually," Quatre said, "I just thought of something better to do." He glanced sideways at Trowa, a small smile on his lips. "Do you happen to know if we have any paint around here?"  
  
Trowa's visible eye widened.  
  
"As long as it's not pink," he answered.  
  
~*~  
  
Owari


End file.
